


To Mend A Rift

by Nelll



Category: Music RPF, Rush (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelll/pseuds/Nelll
Summary: Alex wasn’t happy with the synthesizers, breaking news.





	To Mend A Rift

**Author's Note:**

> Some old WIP I dusted off and finished.

The roar of the crowd was coming in waves, sometimes sharp and loud, sometimes deep and remote. In the semi-darkness of the backstage, people swarmed, rearranging the lights and equipment. The set was almost over; they only had a fifteen-minute encore to play after the break, and then they could finally call it a night. 

No one paid any attention to Geddy as he wandered off from the stage area. He didn’t have any destination in mind, just wanted to be alone for a while. It was probably the first time in their shared career that he and Alex had left the stage through different exits and weren’t hanging out together during the break. 

Alex wasn’t happy with the synthesizers, breaking news. The recording of _Hold Your Fire_ had been a tough, soul-sucking process, and the tour was shaping up to be just the same. Alex didn’t like the new electronic direction the band was taking, the lack of guitar parts, and his own diminished role. The rift had started to build in the _Grace Under Pressure_ days and had only been growing ever since. This time, between Geddy, Peter and Neil’s newly found enthusiasm for electronic drums, they had managed once again to talk him into submission, but the peace was fragile. 

Mild and easy-going by nature, Alex wasn’t up for an open confrontation, at least not just yet, but his mood was getting sourer by the day. The strain became almost palpable. 

It was just so unfair, Geddy mused as he walked aimlessly along a dimly lit corridor cluttered with empty equipment cases. Why couldn’t Alex see that their songs weren’t all about guitar parts? They could do so much more with the new technologies. Rock music didn’t have to be limited to a standard base-guitar-drums package. If only Alex could understand that and stop kicking up shit over nothing. 

Suddenly, there were voices ahead. Geddy wasn’t wearing his glasses, so he could only make out two blurry silhouettes, one advancing in on the other, brandishing something in front of their face. They seemed to be having a disagreement.

Geddy wanted to turn back; he was not in the mood for breaking up fights. One thing made him hesitate, though. He thought one of the voices sounded a lot like Alex’s. Geddy stopped and listened.

“...so just lay off, dude, okay?” Definitely Alex. He sounded defensive.

“This is complete shit, man! You hear me? I ain’t buying it!”

“You don’t have to,” Alex said, putting his hands in front of him in a placating manner. “Chill out.”

Geddy squinted short-sightedly. The other guy was big, his beefy arms almost as thick as Alex’s thigh. And the thing he was shoving into Alex’s face was their new record. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!”

The musclehead grabbed Alex by his shirtfront, lifted him off his feet and planted him against the wall. Alex grunted; his hands flew up to his throat. The record tumbled to the floor. 

Geddy started to run. 

“You leave him alone, you jerk!” he screamed as he threw himself at the big guy. He didn’t really know how to fight; in high school, he’d always been beaten up, and after he’d started playing professionally he thought he had it all behind him. 

He managed to make the guy lurch back and let go of Alex’s shirt, but only thanks to the unexpectedness of his attack. His opponent was good ten inches taller and almost twice as heavy. He recovered his balance and gave Geddy a shove that sent him flying against the opposite wall.

“Fuck off,” the guy barked. He obviously didn’t recognize Geddy, or maybe he simply was one of those fans who were more interested in booze and brawl than in actual music. How had he got in here anyway? And where the hell was security?

Geddy shook his head, a little disoriented from the impact. The guy grabbed Alex again and was now punching him against the wall as if he wanted to push him through it. The pieces of the record crunched under his boots. 

Geddy struggled to his feet and sprang at the guy again, trying to twist his hands away from Alex. The brawler ignored him until Geddy managed to get him over the ear; then he finally turned and took a swing. 

“Dirk, no!” Alex screamed.

Geddy saw a fist coming at him at a supersonic speed, and then his head exploded. The world flared white, heat swelled in his nose and mouth, and he tasted blood. He swayed, blinded, clutching at his face. 

There were running footsteps, curses, sounds of a struggle. Someone grabbed his shoulders and guided him gently to the wall. Glad to have some support, Geddy leaned against it, wiped a hand across his face. It came up wet and sticky. 

“Easy.” The gruff voice belonged to Neil. “Let me see.”

Geddy cracked one eye open. Trough involuntary tears he saw two men in the venue security guards’ uniform twist the brawler’s arms behind his back and drag him towards the emergency exit. He was kicking and screaming and threatening to sue everybody to hell.

Alex sat on the floor, among the pieces of the broken vinyl, gulping air. Geddy wanted to ask if he was alright, but only managed to sputter more blood.

“Hush,” Neil said, his hand rubbing Geddy’s shoulder. “Don’t talk. You need a doctor.”

“Do, ‘mb bfine,” Geddy croaked. He didn’t want to see any doctor. He just wanted the light to stop hurting his eyes.

The growing crowd of techs, venue’s workers and crew members shifted to let through the exasperated-looking Ray, the manager of Rush.

“What the hell is going on?!” 

“Er, um, nothing. I, uh, saw that jerk pick on Alex and tried to stop ‘im.” Geddy winced. “And there you have it.” He made a helpless gesture. “I’m sorry.”

Then he realized something and felt a brief surge of panic. “Fuck, we have to be on stage!”

“Too late to worry about that now.” Ray drove a hand through his thinning hair. “We’ll have to cancel the encore.”

“But—”

“Have you seen your face? You’re in no condition to sing. Damn it, man! You shoulda just called the security.”

Geddy didn’t answer.

Alex rose gingerly to his feet and walked up to him, looking unhappy. He’s probably mad that he didn’t act as macho as everybody expects him to, Geddy thought darkly. Or maybe he thinks I’m a wimp. And he’s right. I’m useless.

“Hey, you alright?” Alex asked softly, looking at the tips of his sneakers.

“Peachy.”

They hovered there awkwardly, avoiding each other’s eyes, as Keith, their British roadie, elbowed his way through the crowd. He took one look at the scene and put an arm around Alex’s shoulders.

“Come on, Lerxst. They’ve called an ambulance; let’s have them take a look at you. Then you can talk to the police.”

“I’m okay,” Alex muttered. “I don’t want to press charges.”

Without really listening to him, Keith guided him gently off. Geddy felt Neil’s grip tighten on his shoulder.

“You should go see the doctor, too, you know?”

Geddy shook his head. The bleeding seemed to stop; the pain had dulled a little. He probably had a split lip, and his nose would swell twice the size tomorrow, but no bones seemed to be fractured. He’d live. 

“I just want to lie down.”

“I know. But we have to make sure you don’t have a concussion. Come on, I’ll give you a ride to the hotel afterwards.”

And so he had to endure a medical examination (some soft-tissue damage, no fractures, no concussion) and a questioning by two police officers, one of which asked for his autograph. Geddy didn’t want to press charges, either, ashamed of the whole incident and desperate to be finally left alone.

It was a good thing they had already played most of show, so the fans weren’t disappointed that much. The venue manager told them Geddy had had ‘a minor accident’, and their chanting GET WELL GED could be heard all the while he was taking care of the formalities. 

After everything was finally settled, the manager called a taxi, and Neil brought Geddy down to the emergency exit. 

They were mostly silent in the car. Geddy had no idea where Alex was―had probably left with Keith or Ray; they’d been examined and questioned separately. A part of Geddy was grateful for that, he didn’t particularly want to see Alex now and didn’t know what to say. The lingering tension between them hadn’t dissipated, if anything, it had grown. And not because of some drunken hulk of a fan. The thing was Geddy hardly even knew how to talk to Alex anymore. He desperately missed their closeness, but had no idea how to bring it back and if it was even possible. 

Right now, he only wanted to go to bed. 

Neil helped him out of the car and got the key for him. They wished each other goodnight at the doorstep of Geddy’s room.

“You sure you don’t need me to stay with you just in case?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks, Pratt.” 

Neil gave him a brief scrutiny. “Well, suit yourself then. I’ll go see if Alex is alright.”

“You do that,” Geddy muttered and closed the door. He leaned against it with a sigh. His head hurt, the right side of his face pulsed with pain and tingled where the doctor had applied antiseptic. Heaving another huge high, Geddy shuffled to the bathroom. 

He took a perfunctory shower and hung about the room for a while. He wanted to go to bed, but his whole body was vibrating with the events of the evening. So he decided to call home and give his wife a carefully edited account of what had happened. The incident was bound to hit the tabloids, and he didn’t want her to worry.

They talked a bit until Geddy felt his taut muscles loosen. He said goodbye then, placed the handset back on the receiver and crawled into bed. He was just starting to drift off when the knock came.

Fuck. Geddy screwed his eyes tight shut. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep?.. 

“I know you’re there, Ged, and I know you’re not sleeping, so open up!” came a muffled, but cheerful voice from the other side of the door. Geddy groaned and scrambled out of bed. He should have known better than try to resist Alex.

“Alright, alright. Coming!”

Alex had taken a shower, too, and changed into soft tracksuit pants and a sweatshirt. He winced as he saw Geddy’s face. His hand rose as if he wanted to touch it, but seemed to think better of it. 

“Wow, you look awful. Does it hurt much?”

“What do you think?” 

Geddy let him in, closed the door and returned to the bed, where his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. It had registered belatedly with him that he wore only a pair of boxers. Not that he was body-shy in front of Alex, but he could smell a fight and didn’t want to do it half-naked. He got into his pants.

Alex flopped down at the foot of the bed. 

“So, um... Thanks for trying to protect me.”

“Didn’t do a very good job of it.”

“You know what they say—it’s the thought that counts.”

“Yeah... Maybe.”

There wasn’t anywhere to sit except for the bed, so Geddy eased down next to Alex. It felt strange to be so close to him after so long a while. Alex was clean and shaved, and smelled of herbal shampoo.

He let his hand slide across the blanket and gingerly cover Geddy’s.

Geddy looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you didn’t want that anymore.”

Alex didn’t say anything nor did he tear his eyes from the spot on the carpet that he seemed to be memorizing, but his hand crawled up on Geddy’s thigh, oh so familiar. 

Geddy felt a pang in his heart that turned into a sudden flare of anger. “Is that because you think you owe me for today?” he demanded.

“What? No!”

“’Cause I distinctly remember you saying that we were through.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“So I’m imagining things, now?” 

“Well, okay, maybe I did, but I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh? And may I ask what the fuck did you mean, then? Which part of ‘through’ did I get wrong?”

Alex ran a hand over his face. “See? We’re doing it again. Why do we have to fight over everything?”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re—” Geddy gritted his teeth and winced at the dull pain where the bruise was forming. “God.”

“It would be nice of you to listen to me once in a while.”

“So you’re saying I don’t listen to you?” Geddy flared up again. 

“And do you? I told you we couldn’t go on like that anymore, I told you I was fed up with your frigging damned synthesizers—” 

“Oh, is that what it is about?!”

Alex slammed his fist down against the mattress. “Shut up, Ged! For once in your life, just shut up and listen to me!” It was so sudden and so unlike him that Geddy did indeed stop short with his mouth open.

“Right,” Alex went on, a little more calmly. “So it is about that, but not just that. You’ve changed. You think only of work, and you want to do everything yourself, and you’re wearing yourself thin, and because of all that you behave like a slave-driver. But I’m not your slave, and this band is mine just as much as it is yours and Neil’s.”

Alex paused to take a deep breath.

“So I want to know if we’re going to do something about it or if it’s going to be the end of everything. If you don’t love me anymore, I’ll understand. But I don’t want to be in the band if I don’t get to decide about my own part in it and if I don’t have your respect. If I’m not your friend anymore.”

“Of course you are my friend, Lerxst.” Geddy sighed, and rubbed at his burning eyes. “You’ll always be my friend.” He added quietly, “I thought you hated me.” 

‘I could never hate you. I just…” Alex trailed off. 

Geddy shivered and huddled into himself. “I had no idea you felt this way.” 

“Well, now you know.” Alex looked down at his clasped hands.

“So what are we gonna do about it?”

Alex shrugged. “I’d appreciate if you just stop and listen to me once in a while. And I want us three to sit down and discuss where it is going. I want some changes.”

“Okay. But I’m not ditching my Moog.” 

“I don’t expect you to. But I want to have more say in the recording process, including the synthesizer parts.”

“I can do that.” Geddy forcefully tore his gaze from the spot on the carpet he had been fixing. “What about us?”

“What about us?” 

“You said you were through with me.”

“I overreacted.”

“So we’re still friends with benefits, huh?” 

Alex sighed. His hand came up to stroke Geddy’s hair, the swollen side of his face, tenderly. Geddy leaned into the touch. 

“I could have killed that fucker for what he’d done to you.”

Geddy snorted. “Yeah, if the security guys hadn’t shown up, he’d have wiped the floor with both of us.”

“Probably.” 

Geddy rested his forehead against the side of Alex’s shoulder and felt an arm circle around him. “Wanna go to bed with me?” he muttered. “Just, you know, snuggle. My head is killing me.”

“Sure.” Alex deftly kicked off his sneakers. “Wanna take off your pants of chastity?”

A corner of Geddy’s mouth turned up. “If you promise not to grab my ass.” 

Alex grinned. “No promises.” 

They quickly stripped down to their boxers and crawled under the covers, arranging themselves so that Geddy didn’t have to lie on the battered side of his face. As his eyes fluttered close, he felt Alex’s lips on his forehead. 

“’M sorry,” Geddy mumbled.

“Shhh. I know. Go to sleep now.” 

And Geddy fell asleep.


End file.
